If I could
by Freddy K
Summary: This story is dedicated to all who tried to make things better than they were and failed. For those who know the word love is too shallow for what they sometimes feel in life. A personal approach. (self-insert) Please Read & Review.
1. Preface

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, including Smeagol Deagol, his grandmother, the Aduin River, or any of the concepts of hobbits, or anything else Lord of the Rings. All of these belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and are copyright and owned by the Tolkien estate. This is a work of fiction, and should not be considered a real part of The Hobbit, or the Trilogy. (Although it would be nice.) All I own is myself, and that's enough.

Part One of: If I Could

By Nesss

If I could prevent what happened that morning in the Gladden Fields along the Aduin River banks, if I could somehow stop a murder that would destroy the lives of many and rot the heart of an innocent little boy from the inside out, I would.

Too bad I couldn't.

I have a story that I would like to tell. I suppose I'm telling it because it's worth telling, for me, and it's more than just a love story or an angst or whatever you would like to call it. I'm going to try to tell it the best I can, even if my writing sucks. Even if everybody thinks that it's just another one of those Mary Sue self-insertions. That may be, but for those of you who have a care, and can look past the crappy "I fell into a time warp to Middle Earth" story line type deal, this is a story about obsession and love and effort. And though it may have led to failure in the end, not everything is about success.

This would be how I tried, and damn if I could. Just damn.

My name is Claire. Yes, that is my real name, and no I don't think it's a crappy name. It's a fine name because my parents gave it to me and at least they cared enough to give me one. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm young and naive and inexperienced.

I have long light brown hair that I wish to cut, fair skin, and have hazel eyes. I like to draw and sing in the shower and to write stories.

It basically, more or less began when I saw the movies. You know the whole "I was enlightened and impacted by LOTR" crap. I connected with Gollum. You know why? I'll tell you why. Because he was the only one who gave a shit enough to do what he set out to do, even if it was partly for evil intentions. Because he was absolutely raped of innocence at a young age by some ring that his friend found. And because, along with being a villain, he was a something of a hero. And that last part, if you really think about it, makes perfect sense.

I swear to God, I swear on the holiest of holy bibles that if I had been there, and I could have stopped that goddamn fish from pulling Deagol in the water, I would have. I would have killed that fish. I would have gutted that thing, and then I would snap both their fishing rods in two and run.

Love is too shallow a thing to express what it is I'm trying to say, or why I want to say it. Perhaps the story I will right will be a better definition.

This is only the preface (or whatever it's called) If you like what you've read so far you can give your opinion on the direction the story's going. 


	2. Part 2

Part 2 of: **If I Could**

It was a rainy day in Everett Washington, which is where I actually live. It rains here a lot, and I like it. It was late on a Sunday and I of course, was trying to keep my eyes open as I attempted to finish my homework. I love homework-NOT. Jesus Christ do I hate that stuff. On my lap, my ugly-as-fuck Gollum doll sat staring with those wide-open eyes into oblivion. He had eyes like Rodney Daingerfield. Seriously, you think they could have made a toy that stared straight ahead? No. Of course not.

Now I'm going to tell you the part of the story that's really stupid. I got sucked into Middle-Earth! Yes really I did.

It happened like this. I got this stupid eyelash in my eye. I'd been losing a lot of eyelashes lately, and I'm pretty sure it was from the radiation that came off my computer screen. I tend to sit at it for hours, you know: at home chemo.

Anyway, when I blinked, the eyelash fell onto my cheek, and you know the drill. Gotta make a wish and blow. So I stuck it on my finger, took a deep breath and I did something really stupid.

"I wish middle earth were real, so that I could meet Smeagol." And I blew. Clever no? I could have said 'and' that I could meet Smeagol, but I said 'so'.

No it was not clever. At least if I had made that mistake I could have been disqualified, but damn me. Damn me to hell. That's how it happened.

You're probably wondering how on earth this has to do with my Smeagol story at all, so I'll tell you right here, that at this time in my life I really didn't have a clue. It wasn't as if I'd contemplated then, and was all prepared to go and try to do my best to prevent things from happening. It's only over time that I learned, while I was there. Plus, you can think about something your whole life, but when your finally there, and it comes down to it, you'd be surprised how everything goes.

After jotting down some nonsense numbers in my Algebra/Trig notebook I tossed my books off my bed and turned the light out. Now, one would expect that when they lay down in there own bed, in there own room, that they would stay there, but I have rotten luck.

I woke up very uncomfortable, cold and damp. No, I didn't wet the bed. I thought I did at first, and it was a horrible feeling, as I checked my pajamas, but I was relieved to find that the dampness was no where near my crotch. Sort of. I mean, how relieved would you be to find yourself out in the middle of nowhere?

If you've ever woken up outside when your camping , and had forgotten where you were, or thought you were still I your own bed, you know what I'm talking about. Only now, imagine yourself waking up, literally balancing on the edge of a steep river bank about to plunge into your icy cold death.

"Mama?" I called. "Mama!" Of course she would come, and then I would open my eyes, for real this time. But she didn't come, and all that answered me was a breeze of chilly air that got me shivering like mad. I'm an awfully sensitive person, extreme temps drive me nuts.

Well, the next thing I thought was that I had been sleep walking. I'd done it before. That would have been a good explanation, except for the fact that I don't live near any rivers, and I couldn't possibly have walked to someplace I didn't know. I mean there's Silver Lake, but it's a lake.

So like any semi intelligent person, I stayed where I was. I used to be a Girl Scout believe it or not and that was one of the first rules you learned while camping in the outdoors. Stay where the fuck you are if you're lost. And man, was I ever lost.

Now you may think I went on to cry or be a snot and complain. You'd be mostly right, because I did all those things, and worse, but as I lay there, on my back, scared as hell with fear heavy on me I thought about death, but not the way you'd be thinking. I was laying on mud and grass with watering eyes and shaking like a leaf, and I was thinking that if I was going to die, that this would be the perfect place to have it happen. This has happened to me only once. There has never been any other place that I felt this, not one. I couldn't see much, I was rendered helpless, and I was all alone in a strange place, no hope and no friends. Basically I was stripped of everything that had supported me, and I realized that I was back to being the way I was when I was born.

You're probably wondering how this relates to my story. It doesn't. I just needed to get it off my chest.

I had drifted off to sleep, thinking all these comforting thoughts, and awoke again to rain on my face and the horrible sensation of needing to pee _real _bad. Joyous events taking place. The only redeeming thing about waking up right then was that the sun had risen and I hadn't fallen into the river. I don't really want to tell you how I went about going to the bathroom, but if you really want to know, it included uncomfortable positioning and leaves.

I must have looked really funny out there, standing in the mud, in my sweatshirt and pajama bottoms sucking my thumb, and clutching my blankee for dear life, but if you put yourself in my shoes (or rather, my socks) you'd be doing the same thing, I guarantee you that.

Also, if you happen to be wondering when Smeagol and Deagol are going to come around the bend, so we can talk in astonished and surprised tones and I can fall in love with Smeagol while he feeds me Oatmeal Pancakes, I'm really sorry. It doesn't happen like that. Even though Oatmeal pancakes are super good, and I'd be tempted just to write it in, I'm going to stick with what actually happened.

Here's what actually happened: I broke my own rule first. I started wandering around, trying to figure out where I was. I'd be hung by the Girl Scouts of America if they found out. Totem council would have my hide, but I was trying to figure out if I recognized any landmarks. I passed by a lot of trees, and grass, and cute little bunnies, but sadly nothing familiar. You have to keep in mind, that I was still sure I was in my own country somewhere near my house, so I wasn't going "I wonder if I'm in Middle-Earth." It certainly would have been more comforting if I had been thinking that, but the events from the past night were all but remembered.

One of the first "people sightings" I actually saw was a more elderly sort. I liked him right away. You know when you see someone on the street and you're like "hey, I'd love to talk to that person, I bet they'd be really good to talk to,"? That's what it was like when I saw this guy. I noticed first off that he was really small, not short but just small. About a meter high, give or take, and he carried a fishing pole on his shoulder, with a hat on, and he was whistling to himself.

Before I let you in on what happened, I'll reveal that I'm an excellent stalker. I have this way of going into "Super Stealth Mode!" You know, and I would whip out my camera and snap a bunch of pictures. He never noticed, it was one of his friends who caught on. Yeah, it's a pretty strange story, and oddly it wasn't because I thought he was cute. I just get infatuated with people sometimes. It's innocent, don't worry about it.

Anyway, when I saw this guy I went absolutely still. He was coming my way, down an overgrown dirt path and I had two choices: I could run up to him and ask him if he knew where I was, or I could wait until he was done fishing and see where he went. Rather dumbly I admit I chose the second one. And I waited for about two hours just hiding in the goddamn wet grass until it dried by the heat of the sun, and I nearly dozed off. Man, I can be really oblivious sometimes.

Luckily, he must have had bad luck with his fishing because after a while, he sighed and packed up his things, and started heading back my way. Now that I look back on it, along with the hypothermia that had set in must have caught "the stupid", because I ended up following him for a while before he stopped on the path. I froze, he turned around.

He put up his fists. "All right, come oot!" He said loudly, and I'm sad to say his voice shook a little. "I know ye've been following me," he continued, "Now show yourself!"

I felt awfully bad for doing this to this little guy. He was adorable as hell, with his nice Scottish sounding accent, and here I had gotten him all shaken up for no reason. I stepped out of my "Super Stealth Hiding Place" obediently.

"Uhhh...I'm uh, sorry." I said with a hand wave. I felt so bad. i had this really strange quesy feeling in the pit of my stomach. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm lost."

Now I've gotten in trouble many a time in my life, by my parents, my teachers, my aunts and uncles, and I felt really bad after I did, but nothing, nothing in the world prepared me for the shame I felt when this guy got on my case.

"Oh, I see." He said, and his little wrinkled face hardened. "So ye jus' think ye can sneak up on some poor unsuspecting fisherman do ye? Scared the livin daylights out of me! Could ha' come up and asked me outright if I could help you, but you young bloods don't know anything. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

I wanted to cry, I really did. "I am sorry sir, I am, believe me I couldn't be any sorrier. But...I'm a bit _out of sorts _right now. I don't really know where I am." When he gave a concerned look that told me he was willing to listen to my sob story, I told him everything, in detail, including some things about the day before.

"So," I concluded at last, "I have to find a way back to Everett. Do you know where that is?"

He didn't reply right away. His mouth was just sort of popped open, and his head was tilted to the side, and he was blinking a lot. I got this really creepy feeling that I was some sort of strange looking animal, in a cage, at the zoo with all these sticky little kids staring at me going "It's so freaky, look at it mommy!"

When he finally did speak, he spoke very slowly and a good deal gentler. "I think perhaps ye've had an accident, young lass." He said, nodding his head. I was abashed. He thought I was crazy!

"No, I'm fine; I'm just lost I-"

But it was futile. My path was decided.

"You look a fright!" The short man said, "Look at ye, covered in dirt. Poor thing." he continued shaking his head and tut-tutting under his breath as he led me along. I sighed but didn't argue any further.

"So where...am I?" I asked. I wanted to go home, my mother was going to be in a state. I was just going to have to explain to her that it wasn't my fault, and I loved her, I'd slept wa-

"The Gladden Fields is where ye are. " The old man said, shaking his head. I heard him mutter something sympathetic under his breath. Around this point you're probably thinking that suddenly I would say outright "Oh my gosh, I'm in middle earth and your a hobbit and I must have fallen into some time warp!" Sorry, not yet.

We walked on for a little while, before I plucked up enough courage to ask another question. I felt really awkward, not only walking with someone who thought I'd hit my head on a rock, but also the fact that I was in my pajamas still.

"Is the Gladden Fields near Everett?" I asked. I still firmly believed that I was in Washington State. Hilarious stuff.

"I don't know where this 'Everett' of yours is, lass. Odd name 'tis. It mus' be far from here since I've haven' heard of it. I thought as much, you're a bit tall for our hobbit-kind and your talk is not the same. Probably a Fallohide, though I don't see how you'd make it all the way down here..."

Ah, _this _is where the first slap of realization hit. Now keep in mind that there are four major stages of shock. There's disbelief, fear, denial, anger, and sadness. Now watch.

My breath had caught in my throat. Did he just say...?

The thoughts ensuing were along the lines of "Hobbit-He said hobbit-no he didn't-yes he did-did he say hobbit-maybe he meant rabbit-I'm not a rabbit-he didn't say hobbit-I think he did-hobbit-hobbit-hobbit-maybe he read the book-he talks funny-is he a hobbit-hobbits don't exist do they-I'm not a hobbit-he's crazy-hobbit."

"Hobbit?" I finally managed to say. I expected him to answer "No, of course not, I said something else entirely", or "I was only joking, there's no such thing as hobbits, in fact Everett's over there, and look your mother's waiting for you."

Unfortunately, he said no such thing. I felt like I'd swallowed a pool ball, I really did.

"Oh dear. You've really done yourself in haven't you? You poor thing. I've read about such things in my day. Amnesia they call it. It's where..."

* * *

All right, now I can tell you're probably thinking "when the hell is this girl going to get on with the ring and Smeagol and Deagol and everything that she promised in her third paragraph?" All in due time my friend, all in due time. It's only the FIRST chapter.

See I've got to set the scene, and you've got to bear with me. Besides, isn't it entertaining? Come on now. I couldn't exactly have known I was in Middle Earth and then tried to play valiant hero, magically stumble across Smeagol and try to stop him right when I woke up could I? Of course not! I told you, this story is about more than that. It's an adventure. And it will get to it, I promise. It has to... I mean...heh, it _better_.

Please REVIEW. Please. I spent a while writing this first chapter, and tried not to get anything wrong. If there is anything wrong with it, besides conventional errors like spelling or sentence structure, could you let me know? No flames please... sigh They make me sad.


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